


salt on your lips

by jinyoungstuan



Series: salt on your lips [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, M/M, Summer Romance, i'm not out to break your hearts until the later chaps, it will have some fluff though, kind of, prepare yourselves for the plot twist of the year, what else do you expect from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinyoungstuan/pseuds/jinyoungstuan
Summary: “Eventually,” Jaebum concluded the topic, voice somehow uneasy and mind clearly wandering somewhere far away from the lecture hall, “Everything connects. People, events, objects - everything. No matter how complicated it might be or how impossible it may seem, there’s always a connection.”And maybe there was a connection between Choi Youngjae and Park Jinyoung as well.





	1. 11:11 AM

[playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KiCIDEWVwWU&list=PLbHW7FrjOmkYUzleO6-8UyAep8p1t0USn&index=1)

 

If someone asked him what word held the most meaning for him, he wouldn’t have hesitated at all - it was clear and simple. _Blue_.

It meant a summer sky full of white fluffy clouds and colorful kites; swimming pools in rich neighborhoods. Blue sometimes meant the color of tears in cheap mangas sold by a street vendor near a bus station on his way to catch a ride to Seoul, it also could’ve meant the color of his favorite jeans. Also, blue was the color of pills he took twice a day and also the color of water.

In a way, you could’ve compared it to running blindfolded through a maze with its walls on fire. One slip in the wrong direction and he could’ve burned to ashes, only a translucent smoke left floating somewhere in the sky, an elemental force he wasn’t aware of possessing making a mess out of his body, coloring his eyes pitch black and tinting his cheeks drunkenly red.

And at the same time, it felt like a tidal wave washing over his entire existence, softly caressing his skin and tickling his feet before putting out all the fire he had in himself. _You have too much water in you_ was what he heard once when he was a child, but he thought it referred to him being a crybaby, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But as the years were passing and he was still spending his summers breathing the salt scented air in the seashore, he sometimes would smile, thinking that maybe _water_ held some other meanings.

Youngjae had always imagined first meetings of lovers to be somewhat special, magical even – the most ideal scenario of his contained some dramatic music in the background with both of them standing on the edge of a cliff where a cold wind would mercilessly make a mess of their hair. The second best was a scenario with calming indie music, both of them walking along the seashore, collecting seashells and longingly sighing while looking at the orange sunset before Youngjae would bump into the girl of his dreams.

He never gave much thought to the third scenario, mostly because it was too plain and boring – it was the reality. And in reality, Jinyoung wasn’t a girl standing on the edge of a cliff, as Mokpo didn’t even have those to begin with. He never understood the point of collecting things, the wind wasn’t making a mess out of his hair, and the radio at the reception offered only a hideous trot song that was probably released a few decades before they both were even born.

Jinyoung was an ordinary guest, one of the many that were about to flood the small city for the summer, running from suffocating heat and humidity in search of a place to stay for a few nights. Youngjae saw him standing in the hallway, all sleepy and confused as if the guest wasn’t quite sure whether he was in the right place.

“Just a moment, please,” Youngjae’s loud and strong voice echoed through the room after noticing the guy with only one backpack on his shoulders, concluding that he was going to spend just a couple of nights here, maybe three, tops. Upon hearing those words, Jinyoung’s stare shifted from the old paintings on the walls to the receptionist, who sounded kind of exhausted from the heavy workload and university finals that were over only two days ago. “I’ll be done in a minute or two.”

However, he wasn’t done in a minute or two, more like in ten or fifteen, but when Youngjae stole some glances from time to time, Jinyoung didn’t look irritated at all. Now he was leaning against one of the walls, carefully listening to the language the foreigners were speaking among themselves. It had that little _something_ – one second it sounded like fluttering wings, another it felt like knives cutting against a chopping board, and then it turned into something similar to a flowing water. Before Jinyoung licked his lips as if he was going to try mimicking it, completely lost in the sea of alluring sounds, Youngjae waved him over and greeted him with a warm smile.

“How can I help you?” the receptionist breathed out in relief, glad that he didn’t need to twist his tongue in the most unusual ways speaking English anymore, because a native speaker of his mother tongue was standing right in front of him.

His enthusiasm, however, was met with a wall of deadly silence, as Jinyoung just handed him a copy of his reservation – neat black syllables on snow white paper, still smelling strongly of the ink from the printer for forgetful guests they had next to the front door.

“You’re going to stay here for the entire summer?” Youngjae asked incredulously after a few light taps in the self-made database saved on his laptop, making this entire process seem more sophisticated and professional despite it being only a small guesthouse in a small town.

People rarely willingly stayed here for more than a week and Youngjae thought that he could understand why – Mokpo really wasn’t the most fascinating city in the world, far from that, if someone asked his humble opinion. Even the sea used to lose its charms after a few days of aimless lying on the hot sand. The urge to get out of here to embark the journey to bigger cities wasn’t unfamiliar to him as well, so the idea of someone probably not much older than himself, spending three months here seemed incredibly weird.

Youngjae’s question was met with another streak of cold silence, followed by a slight expressionless nod, but he shrugged it off. Maybe the guy was tired, maybe he was shy around strangers. Or maybe he was simply an ass, Youngjae wondered after asking the reason of such a long stay and getting nothing in response yet again.

“Your passport, please.”

It was a regular procedure – making a few copies of the document in case something unexpected happened. His family learned this important lesson last summer, when a bunch of guys rented a few rooms with fake student IDs, what spiraled into an incredible mess left out of the rooms, a few useless visits to the local police station and tons of money spent on repair works.

Youngjae was used to lame mocking jokes about it, remarks like _is this an immigration office_ or _maybe you want to take our fingerprints too?_ weren’t an unusual occurrence, so he wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest hearing it again, but the guest gave him the passport just as wordlessly. So the receptionist was slowly becoming convinced that this Park Jinyoung, whose name he saw in the document a few seconds ago, was only trying too hard to seem cool and mysterious, which wasn’t something that went well with his appearance.

A bowl cut made Jinyoung’s features look soft rather than cold, his dark eyes were full of this weird calmness and his hands, tightly clutching on the straps of his backpack as if he was afraid of getting robbed, sealed the contradicting first impression of twenty-three year old Jinyoung, who came all the way from Seoul, according to the train ticket he had absent-mindedly given the receptionist along with the reservation.

“This is your card,” Youngjae started explaining the rules, which he had carved deep in his mind thanks to the countless summers of helping his parents out. “This works as a key for both the main entrance and your room. If you’re planning to go out during the night, we don’t have a curfew, but try not to wake everyone up when you decide to come back, okay? Breakfast is usually served around 10 AM in the dining room on the first floor and dinner is at 7 PM, but since you’re going to live here for a while, I’m sure one of my parents will come by to explain everything properly, as this is only the basic info. Any questions?”

When Jinyoung abruptly shook his head without letting out any sound again, creating an illusion that he wasn’t even listening, Youngjae only sighed, not really knowing what to do with this bastard, who couldn’t spare him a word during this entire encounter. If his personality was at least a tiny bit rougher, he could’ve just told the guest where his room is and leave Jinyoung on his own, but after a split second he said, “I will accompany you to your room, let’s go.”

Jinyoung nodded again, making it seem like it was a default reaction to anything he was told, facial expression unchanged as he took his card and passport, following the quick steps of the other. Youngjae was silently humming something under his breath, adding his own interpretations of English lyrics.

“You’re from Seoul, right?” the younger’s desperate attempts to hold a conversation echoed in the narrow staircase as they were climbing to the third floor. When Jinyoung didn’t respond again, what was something Youngjae was already starting to expect, he continued, swiftly navigating in the maze of corridors that smelled like old wood and sea salt, “I’m studying in Seoul. I come back here only for summers.”

Jinyoung was supposed to ask what university he was attending or where in Seoul he lived, but he didn’t and Youngjae started considering giving up, as the only sound he thought he heard the guest making was some sort of a sigh – a subtle, but clear indication that he was uncomfortable and slightly annoyed by this talkativeness. 

“This is your room. Rest well, I know that the trip from Seoul feels like hell,” Youngjae sounded relieved when they finally reached the right door, quickly glimpsing at the clock on his wrist. “It’s 11:11 AM, they say if you make a wish during this hour, it comes true. Though I like to make wishes every time the numbers repeat, 12:12, 1:11, stuff like that. Just to make sure.”

The last words made Jinyoung’s lips twitch a bit, like he was about to smile for some unknown reason and the receptionist thought that maybe it was an indication that their new guest wasn’t a complete asshole after all. Maybe his silence was a result of a terribly early KTX trip that made his back hurt or something, maybe it was only a temporary morning grumpiness. But he didn’t have time to think about that any more, remembering that there might be other guests waiting. Youngjae quickly bowed in goodbye and ran all the way down the stairs back to his workplace.

Few hours later, he was drowning in work, trying to patiently explain the obnoxious couple from Daegu that the parking lot isn’t free of charge and that they need to pay a certain fee if they want to use it during their stay, or fighting the urge to rip his hair out when it seemed like he had lost a reservation, but it turned out to be a bunch of dumb giggly college girls mixing up hotels.

Youngjae was incredibly happy to finally collapse onto a chair to rest a bit when there weren’t any more guests to deal with. He rested his head against the refreshingly cold wooden surface of the counter and, contrary most to the romantic stories, his mind didn’t travel to the weird guest living on the third floor. Actually, for a while, Youngjae even forgot about the quite unpleasant meeting, sleep and homemade food being the only things he wanted for his upcoming lunch break his father generously extended to an hour and a half, much to his sister’s dissatisfaction. Being the youngest in the family always had some perks.

His long awaited rest, however, was short-lived, as he felt something disgusting and wet thrown at him. After raising his head with a deep frown etched in his face, Youngjae saw his sister, who came back from grocery shopping a few moments ago. Or at least he guessed so from the pack of lettuce that hit his head a few seconds earlier and now was mockingly resting on the table, next to his arm.

“Don’t sleep at work,” his sister chuckled, satisfied with her amazing prank. Youngjae made a face at her and threw the vegetable back, completely ruining it _and_ missing the target.

“Mom is going to kill you, she needed that for the salad,” the young woman laughed, making her way toward their personal rooms. “Good luck cleaning, by the way, I don’t want to see any of this when my shift starts.”

Youngjae let out a series of curses under his breath for falling into this trap. “As if you actually work. You only keep reading those weird magazines online and call me every five minutes to do everything for you.”

His sister just snorted and Youngjae himself started laughing at this banter, trying to remember where he had put the broomstick after cleaning up earlier this morning. He hoped that after cleaning the green mess off the floor he could rest a bit more, but then his mother called him to the kitchen and he groaned, wondering what kind of trouble he was in now.

And he wasn’t wrong – his mother made him listen to a whole lecture about the ruined lettuce, but in the end he got a pack of potato chips and a can of soda to occupy himself with until lunch, so he didn’t complain that much.

“Also, dear, when you have time, take the bedsheets from the laundry room and bring them to 302, okay? I forgot it this morning,” only then did Youngjae remember that 302 was that strange guy’s room and sighed, doomed to experience another wave of silence.

“It’s _that_ boy, isn’t it?” his sister asked, flipping pages of some magazine she bought and Youngjae noticed her intonation that sounded slightly off. “He should be here already, no?” 

“That guy in 302? Yeah, he checked in a few hours ago. Seems like a pain in the ass, if you ask me.”

His mother slapped his shoulder in exasperation both for Youngjae cursing and badmouthing a guest, what caused him to hiss in pain and get irritated even more. “He didn’t even say a word to me, am I supposed to be happy about that?”

His sister sighed rolling her eyes, surprised by Youngjae’s stupidity he still wasn’t aware of, “He’s _mute_ , dumbass, how do you expect him to talk?”


	2. 12:12 PM

If someone asked Youngjae what his favorite memory was, he wouldn’t have thought about it that much, confidently picking either the first time his parents took him to a maritime festival or the second meeting with Park Jinyoung.

The first one, the festival, because he was only six years old back then, and kids of his age were easily fascinated by colorful and loud fireworks and shimmering fountains of water shooting meters up into the sky. Even the smell of fish that was constantly around and that Youngjae grew to dislike over the years seemed somehow magical back then and he held onto the memories of it whenever he missed his childhood and carefree days.

The second one, the meeting, because Park Jinyoung was an enigma, a puzzle which had too many pieces that didn’t match at the first sight and maybe not even at the second or the third one. But Youngjae liked puzzles about as much as he liked sitting on the sand counting the waves crashing into the shore, and that was a whole lot.

He wasn’t planning to meet the guy ever again, at least not until the embarrassment that burned his insides died down. Youngjae was determined to bribe his sister to take the bedsheets to 302, because the thought of meeting the guest seemed too frightening for some reason. However, his sister refused even the offer of him taking over all her night shifts for the upcoming month. So the next morning, when he was kind of surprised that Jinyoung didn’t come downstairs to complain about the bedsheets he never got, Youngjae found himself standing like an idiot in front of the doors of the guest’s room, not really knowing what to do with himself.

It was just after eleven in the morning and in the best case scenario Jinyoung wasn’t supposed to be in the guesthouse at all. It was a pretty summer day – the weather wasn’t tiringly hot, just right for a long walk somewhere in the city and Youngjae, slowly reaching his hand out to knock, hoped that Jinyoung liked long walks, perhaps even taking one now. And a few knocks later, not getting any sort of response, no sound of steps coming close to the door, he thought that today was his lucky day.

It wasn’t.

After knocking one last time just to make himself sure, Youngjae took the spare card he snatched from the reception earlier this morning and quickly swiped it on the lock, happy that everything worked out painlessly and without any awkward encounters. However, as soon as he stepped into the room, he immediately realized he fucked up.

Jinyoung was there, siting at the desk in front of the window, with his back facing the door and earphones in his ears. There was a cup of coffee next to him and the elder seemed like he was working on something on his laptop, judging from impatient loud taps on the keyboard that echoed through the room, brightly illuminated by the morning sun.  

He didn’t seem like he heard the receptionist entering the room and Youngjae wished for things to remain that way, hoping to silently leave those damn bedsheets somewhere as near the entrance as possible and then run for his life, praying that no one would ever know about this comical and tragic situation. But then again, today just wasn’t his day.

He hit his pinky toe into the corner of the wall while trying to figure out how to disappear within seconds and let out series of curses, startling Jinyoung and making him flip his cup of coffee over, dark brown liquid now dripping on the floor and everywhere around.

Jinyoung’s eyebrows were tied into a tight line of exasperation when he looked at the culprit of this mess, who now was all red both from pain and even more embarrassment, mumbling something under his breath. Youngjae thought that this was it, the guest was definitely going to complain to his parents and he was going to face the never ending ranting about what kind of a terrible person he is, but Jinyoung looked pretty calm. Irritated, much like you’d be when interrupted while doing something important, but not mad furious. A few seconds later, his lips even broke into a slight smile as he waved Youngjae over.

“Yes?” the latter silently asked coming nearer, still unsure of the events were going to unfold. The spilled coffee was going to leave a stain on Jinyoung’s blue jeans, that was for sure, but the guest didn’t seem to notice that and Youngjae didn’t want to mention it either just yet.

And another part of his brain was also wondering _how_ Jinyoung will voice out what he wanted to say, considering the given situation. He expected to see some complicated sign language or something like that, but Jinyoung simply closed the document he was working on in his laptop and with a few swift clicks of the mouse opened Notepad.

“ _You’re lucky none of that got onto my laptop_ ,” was all he typed and Youngjae was reminded of all the reasons why he preferred having actual conversations instead of reading texts. He simply couldn’t figure out whether Jinyoung was serious or not, because the words and grammars he chose sounded quite annoyed, but the slight smile that was still playing on lips said something else.

“I’m sorry,” was all Youngjae could mumble, knowing how dumb and embarrassing this situation was. If he wished to forget yesterday’s failure over the time, now he knew that he was going to beat himself over this for at least an upcoming month. “I didn’t know you were here. I knocked a few times, I swear, but you didn’t come to open the door, so I thought—“

“ _Calm down_ ,” black syllables flashing in the screen finally stopped the younger from panicking about the guest hating him for the rest of the summer. “ _It’s my fault too, shouldn’t have listened to music so loudly. I didn’t hear you knocking._ ”

A long awkward silence followed that, with Youngjae not really knowing what to add and Jinyoung curiously scanning him from head to toe with his dark gaze. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, Youngjae later decided, just a little bit weird. It was a cliché, but it felt exactly like the elder was trying to see through him, but he didn’t mind.

“I’m sorry,” he repeat silently, suddenly catching himself thinking that it was a great chance to explain himself and clear all the misunderstandings that were happening ever since Jinyoung stepped his foot in this vicinity. “For yesterday. I didn’t know you’re… You’re—“

“ _That I’m mute?_ ” the elder’s fingers started tapping the keyboard faster and with some certain sarcasm to it. “ _I’m sure I mentioned it somewhere in the reservation, but don’t worry. You’d be surprised how often that happens. I’m used to this by now_.”

Youngjae wanted to argue, to say that just because he was used to this it didn’t mean it was okay, but he remained quiet. Jinyoung’s presence was weird, contradicting, and somehow frightening, as if he was going to burst out in anger any second, even though there was no apparent reason as to why would he. And at the same time, the sunlight coming through an open window and playing with Jinyoung’s pitch black hair coloring them dark brown, made him seem absolutely relaxed and at ease. Only his eyes, those deep slightly watery eyes, had some weird kind of sadness and melancholy to them. Sadness that wasn’t induced by something Youngjae would know, that ethereal sadness that was above their mundane lives.

“So, why Mokpo?” he asked. Jinyoung looked surprised by this casual change of the topic, but it seemed like he didn’t mind letting the younger closer, maybe even giving him the opportunity to become some sort of friends, both imprisoned here for long 74 days of summer.

“ _I’m not sure. Wanted to see the sea maybe. You know – sea, nice air, less people than in Seoul. Less chances of someone barging into my room while I’m not listening_.”

Youngjae decided not to respond to the last sentence, which obviously was a playful jab directed at him. He sat onto the bed close enough to see what the elder was writing, as the latter offered by pointing to the empty space next to him, and insisted, “Yeah, but there are like dozens of other cities where you can do that. Busan, for example.”

“ _Which part of ‘less people’ you didn’t get_?” Jinyoung typed, soundlessly chuckling. Or at least Youngjae thought it was a chuckle, judging from the way the elder’s shoulders moved.

“Technically, you said only ‘less people than in Seoul’, so Busan still counts,” the younger bit back with humor in his voice.

“ _Sassy. Reasons are not important. Maybe there are no reasons at all._ ”

It was that moment when Youngjae thought about it for the first time and will think about it a lot later. Jinyoung seemed exactly like that – maybe reasons behind his actions were important, but maybe they weren’t, and maybe he didn’t even have any reasons at all, doing everything in the heat of the moment.

“ _Also, I don’t really talk about stuff with people I don’t even know the name of. We never really had a proper chance to introduce ourselves to each other, did we?_ ”

Youngjae shrugged, introductions weren’t a big deal to him, “Choi Youngjae, twenty-one. I’m studying in Seoul and come back to help out my parents during summers, but I might have told you all this yesterday while being an insensitive asshole. Your turn.”

“ _Park Jinyoung, 23._ ” was all the younger was allowed to know for now, only the things that didn’t actually say anything. Nothing more than what Youngjae could’ve found out after going downstairs and checking the copy of Jinyoung’s passport, stored in one of the folders that were usually stuffed into some drawer, but he decided not to question it.

“What were you working on before I made the grand entrance? I saw you slamming your keyboard like crazy.”

Jinyoung hesitated for a while before slowly typing out, “ _I’m not sure myself yet. Lyrics maybe. Or maybe a poem, or a beginning of some sappy novel. Who knows, it could be anything._ ”

Youngjae felt this sharp pang in his heart, a tiny dash of pity making its way there, something he definitely didn’t want to feel and was sure Jinyoung wouldn’t appreciate either, when the latter continued, “ _I used to sing before I got mute. Now I need to find other ways to it, since, you know, I can’t really make sounds with my throat anymore_.”

 “So you weren’t like that your entire life?” Youngjae slowly asked, trying to feel where was the line between the question still being appropriate and straight up rude. He always thought that these cases were the most heartbreaking, having something taken away from you, probably without any chance of it coming back.

“ _No, I wasn’t_.”

“What happened?”

“ _A whole lot of unfortunate events on a rainy day and one inexperienced paramedic that followed,_ ” Jinyoung finally wrote after what seemed an eternity of him typing and deleting his words over and over again. “ _But it was four years ago, about time for me to move on._ ”

Surprisingly, his appearance didn’t contradict this statement – he didn’t look like he was suffering from something, if anything Jinyoung seemed weirdly, incredibly calm talking about his disability and Youngjae was no psychologist to determine whether everything was just a lie and the guest didn’t seem like he was about to write something more about that.

Youngjae didn’t open his mouth any more either, nervously playing with hem of his shirt, until the elder lightly poked his arm trying to grab his attention, “ _It’s almost 12:12, didn’t you say you’re making wishes at this time? Let’s do this now, too._ ”

The receptionist didn’t know if he was happy that this was what Jinyoung remembered out of their entire encounter yesterday, but it still was somehow heartwarming that he _bothered_ to remember. After a few seconds of silence for both of them to come up with their wishes, Jinyoung asked, “ _What do you usually wish for?_ ”

Youngjae’s wide smile faltered for a while. It was a long while and it seemed like the smile was hard to pick up again, but he succeeded nevertheless, the sunshine lighting up his eyes again as he said, “It’s supposed to be a secret. But maybe one day I will tell you.”

Jinyoung nodded, “ _Okay. Then maybe one day I’ll tell you mine too.”_

Another streak of silence followed after that, but this time it wasn’t neither sad nor awkward by any means, just two guys who have met by a sheer accident quietly drowning in their thoughts about everything and nothing at all at the same time. Youngjae knew that he needed to go, his shift at the reception desk was supposed to start after a few minutes, but he didn’t have it in himself to stand up, suddenly feeling somehow tired and dazed.

“ _It seems like you need to go,_ ” the sounds of the keyboard made the younger snap back to reality from his weird daze and he just foolishly blinked at Jinyoung, taking a while to respond.

“I kind of do,” he admitted, finally standing up and getting ready to go and do his duties. “It was nice meeting you. I hope you don’t think that I’m an asshole or something, most of the time I’m borderline awkward and out of luck. I really didn’t know about your condition until my sister told me.”

“ _It’s okay, Youngjae, don’t beat yourself over this. I should be thanking you, if anything_.”

Youngjae frowned in disbelief and surprise, “Thanking me? For what?”

“ _It’s the first actual conversation I had with someone in weeks. It’s worth saving, even though it has only my responses. I will remember yours in my head_ ,” Jinyoung promised with a smile softening his facial features even more. Youngjae thought that he was joking, but he indeed saved the conversation on his desktop and the younger felt weirdly happy about that.

The latter hesitated for a while, a whole lot of things running through his mind, but in the end he asked Jinyoung for a permission to take over his laptop keyboard and typed in his phone number into the same document the elder used to reply to him, saying that if Jinyoung wanted to talk, he was always on his phone anyway. Then he turned to go, but for some reason it was like he couldn’t force himself out of the room, asking, “Is it hard?”

Jinyoung looked at him surprised, quickly opening the document again and writing, “ _What is_?”

“Having to deal with people who don’t even try to understand you. I bet there are a lot of those.”

The elder’s lip corners tucked up with some sadness as he wrote, “ _Actually, it’s the other way around. People imagine that they’re the ones having a hard time, having to waste their precious time to wait until I write what I need. That’s why you seem so unusual now, Choi Youngjae_.”

The latter just wordlessly nodded at this, finally leaving the guest alone in the room. As he was walking down the stairs to his workplace, he thought he felt a small prick at the back of his throat. It felt like a needle – a short, sudden and definitely unpleasant feeling, but he coughed it out, wondering that maybe it was just his allergies acting up.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t - it wasn’t the day for Youngjae to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just trying to squeeze as much text as possible into chapters right now, because I'm not sure I will be able to update during the last weeks of December and the first week of January, so I'm just writing whatever tbh.   
> As always, comments are welcomed more than anything! <3


	3. 1:11 PM

Sometimes Youngjae had this weird perception that everything was happening in slow motion – people passing by him seemed incredibly, unnaturally slow, the sounds they made were so prolonged as if they were never going to reach their ending and Youngjae had troubles figuring out what was going on. His entire body slowed down at those moments, too, eyes closing and opening so heavily, breathing almost painfully labored.

Maybe it was a result of a low blood pressure or some other easily explainable medical condition he never knew he had, maybe it was only his body reacting to this hellish heat and humidity that finally reached Mokpo from other parts of the country. Perhaps it was because of him skipping meals lately – Youngjae didn’t know, but he thought that he would rather die than deal with it today out of all days.

There was a whole bunch of people in the reception, checking in and checking out, having never ending complaints about everything, and Youngjae had to get himself together in order not to fall asleep while counting the handful of bills he got from the family with two kids that lived in the 2nd floor for nine days. There were some extra cash, as a way to say sorry for those walls the kids ruined with crayons, but Youngjae didn’t even bat and eyelash at that, feeling a bit lightheaded and weak.

“You okay there?” even his sister seemed concerned, not showing her usual sarcasm that was obvious whenever Youngjae whined that he didn’t feel well. The latter was resting his head against the wall in the reception, trying his best to keep himself on his feet. He had five more hours of work to survive and he wasn’t eager to let a thing as pathetic as some dizziness ruin his determination. It was only an early morning, plenty of time to snap out of it.

“I’m fine,” Youngjae mumbled, trying to crack his eyes open and letting out a long yawn that made his jaw feel like it was about to break. “I never was really good at dealing with this heat, it happens all the time.”

His sister barely listened to him, concern written all over her face, as she put her palm on his forehead, "Did you get a heat stroke or something? You’re all pale and warm, take a day off. I’ll take over the reception today.”

Youngjae wanted to argue, because _he was fine_ , but upon realizing that he felt too lazy and sleepy to even open his mouth he just nodded, dragging himself to his room that was welcomingly cold due to the air conditioner he left on before going to work. However, when he finally curled into a ball under his favorite blanket ready to take a nap, he couldn’t close his eyes. Something, some weird inner force didn’t allow him to fall asleep no matter how tired he felt, so after an hour or two of useless turning around Youngjae decided that a cup of coffee and a long walk along the seashore will work way better, at least he hoped so.

When he finally stepped into the beach, holding a cup of iced Americano from a coffee shop nearby, he learned that the weather wasn’t as unbearably hot as he imagined, allowing him to finally breathe without feeling like he was continuously punched in the nose by suffocating humidity and think about some things that he was trying to get out of his head for a long while.

Park Jinyoung never texted him after that disastrous day of Youngjae sneaking into his room and the younger thought it was more than understandable. The receptionist was nothing more but a mere stranger, loud and probably even obnoxious with his never ending stream of words and Jinyoung seemed like he was content with his loneliness, the silence that was surrounding him. A complete opposite, to put it simply, so Youngjae was straight up surprised to find out that the guest was also talking a walk along the seashore at the same moment, holding a cup of coffee from the same coffee shop he visited minutes ago.

Jinyoung was walking slowly, as if trying to feel every grain of sand with his bare feet. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and black jeans he was probably boiling alive in, because even though the heat died down a bit compared to previous days, it was still too hot to wear any kind of black. He had earphones in his ears and the younger could swear that Jinyoung was slightly smiling as he walked, calm and relaxed. Happy, even.

Youngjae thought that maybe he should call the elder’s name, to join him and have a usual chitchat he would’ve had if it was any other person he knew. But after a few seconds of contemplating, he decided that he didn’t want to – Jinyoung clearly didn’t want any company to himself, that was the main reason why he ended up in Mokpo, and Youngjae sighed, slowing his steps, so he wouldn’t be able to catch up with the guest.

He felt a little better by the time clock striked 1:11 PM, according to his wristwatch he took a glimpse at, probably the caffeine in his system was doing its job. Various things finally started running through his mind, waking it up from the slump – the exam scores he had yet to receive, the last semester of his second year in university. His upcoming future, where he was bound to return to Mokpo to take over his parents’ business along with his sister.

He didn’t feel sad or angry about it, as he rarely allowed himself to think about it in the first place – Youngjae always tried to enjoy these particular moments in his life to the fullest, broken dreams and boring jobs had to wait. It simply wasn’t in his blood to feel depressed about this whole plan of his life, besides, he kind of liked what he was doing anyway. However, at this point he couldn’t really determine anymore if he liked his work because he truly enjoyed working with people or just because he was used to it, working at the same reception desk ever since he was fifteen.

Youngjae was so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice that Jinyoung was now sitting on the sand a bit further from other people, almost right in front of the sea. Perhaps he was tired from the long walk, because they both were quite far away from the guesthouse already, but the younger almost didn’t notice him quickly jumping from his seat and running after him. Almost, since Jinyoung grabbed the younger’s hand, catching the latter off guard.

Youngjae stopped in the middle of his step surprised, as he was slowly forgetting that Jinyoung was in the beach too, but as soon as he recognized the person, he said only, “You?”

Jinyoung nodded, because what else could his answer been really, with a slight smile tucking his lip corners up and forming small wrinkles in his eye corners. He tilted his head making a gesture, asking if Youngjae wanted to sit next to him and take a rest too.

The younger didn’t know how he knew that Jinyoung was asking exactly that, because one slight nod could’ve had thousands of meanings, but he soon decided that the guest’s gestures were easy to read, or at least he made them that way and Youngjae definitely didn’t mind sitting down. He was tired, realizing it only now, when he felt his legs almost burning from walking that much.

“Needed a walk too?” he asked a few minutes later, when they were both sitting on the warm sand, shifting their gazes to the surface of the sea. It was calm, since there was barely any wind, there were a few people in the water, enjoying the warmth of it. The sound of those few rare waves crashing into the shore sounded somehow relaxing and Youngjae could feel Jinyoung nodding again. “I saw you before, but decided not to interrupt you.”

Jinyoung wanted to say something, judging from the way he was desperately turning around, trying to figure out _how_ he should do that. Turned out, his phone’s battery was dead, as he explained, quickly tracing the syllables on the sand with his finger. Youngjae had some troubles deciphering his handwriting as it was pretty terrible and the sand didn’t make it any easier to read, “ _I saw you too, but decided not to bother you either._ ”

“You don’t bother me,” Youngjae mumbled rubbing his eyes, trying to get rid of the last bits of sleepiness. He took out his phone from his pocket and gave it Jinyoung, a blank field of a new message flashing brightly in front of his eyes, so he wouldn’t need to get his hands dirty.  

“ _You look tired_.”

“It’s nothing, just the heat and workload making a mess. I’ll be fine,” the younger sighed, not really eager to complain any further to the guy next to him. His “struggles” must have seemed so childish and ridiculous to Jinyoung and the latter had every right to make fun of it – the elder had suffered a whole lot more than a few extra degrees in the scale of thermometer and few more hours at work.

They sat in silence for a while, watching people around them lying down and enjoying sunbathing, playing volleyball, some children were playing with sand and suddenly Jinyoung started soundlessly laughing, looking at them.

“ _Want to build a castle together?_ ”

Youngjae stared at the letters, wondering if he read it correctly, then asked, “Why, out of all things?”

“ _Sandcastles are like thoughts_ ,” Jinyoung typed the words, trying to do it as fast as possible. “ _You build them slowly, detail by detail, trying to figure out why, what and where you should put those details for it to look pretty and acceptable, but the that one particular wave always comes and ruins it. Puts everything back to its original place, where nothing is as pretty and organized as we think it needs to be_.”

Youngjae felt like reading a novel of some kind, because the meaning behind these words was so deep, deeper than any twenty-three year old he knew would think of. The words sounded somehow familiar, though, when he silently mouthed the words to himself, like he had read something similar already or heard someone quoting it, but he didn’t question.

“So you’re suggesting to build one to get rid of our thoughts that we’re trying so hard to make pretty and organized? To release the chaos that we’re bottling up?” he finally asked and Jinyoung nodded, satisfied that the younger was able to grasp the meaning of his thoughts so quickly. “Do you do that a lot, bottling up emotions?”

“ _I don’t know. When you can’t say anything out loud, aren’t you bottling everything up anyway?_ ”

Youngjae thought about this for a second, but he didn’t know whether this conclusion was right. Instead of an answer he said, “Give me your cup of coffee if it’s empty. We need some water if we want this castle to happen.”

He soon came back with two cups full of the salty sea water, handing one back to the elder only for them to ceremoniously it pour it on the sand, determined to make some masterpiece out of it. However, none of them were actually good enough of builders to make it at least decent looking – the kids that were passing by gave them a couple of stares, judging the crooked walls of their castle and weird windows that Youngjae made with a wooden stick he found nearby.

“It looks pretty bad,” he concluded half an hour later, when he was wiping the sand away from his pants. “We would be terrible architects.”

“ _Thank god we’re not_ ,” Jinyoung passed the phone back for the younger to read, but his gaze looked somehow distant. “ _What are you studying actually? We never talked about that_.”

“Business administration,” Youngjae replied, mentally sighing, because it wasn’t the topic he wanted to talk about right now. “What about you? Are you studying somewhere?”

“ _Before the accident I planned to major in music, I wanted to act in musicals. I dreamed about it ever since I was a child. But it wasn’t mean to come true_.”

Youngjae gulped, suddenly feeling terribly sad. To have his dream taken away like that, without any possibility to bring it back, he could only imagine what kind of hell Jinyoung had to go through before accepting it. If he ever accepted it, that is.

“I’m really sorry,” that was all the younger managed to mutter under his breath, noticing a small treble clef that the elder carved into one of the sand walls, something he didn’t see before.

Jinyoung was sitting with his eyes closed and Youngjae thought that he was taking his moment, maybe suppressing his tears or something, but when he finally opened his eyes, his gaze was completely clear as he spared another glance at their atrocious creation and stood up, stepping onto his half of the castle, completely demolishing it.

Burying it under his feet like his dreams were buried under someone else’s, someone’s who was responsible for the accident and the loss of his voice, Youngjae thought, watching the whole scene. Jinyoung made sure that the younger’s side would remain untouched, but the latter followed him, kicking the leftovers of the castle away in hopes that it would console the other somehow.

Jinyoung just softly smiled at this, but his smile wasn’t happy at all, more like a parody that was supposed to keep Youngjae at ease, while they were finally heading home hours later when the sun was already setting, shoulder to shoulder without saying a word. They were supposed to separate after reaching the guesthouse as the receptionist found several messages from his mother, demanding to get his supposedly sick ass to his room right now. Jinyoung, seeing him quickly going through the messages and notifications, lightly touched his shoulder and pointed to his phone and Youngjae understood that he wants to borrow it for one last message.

“ _Thanks for today, friend, it was fun. The sunset here is amazing, exactly the same shade of red you like the most, right?_ ”

There was something awkward about the message, as if Jinyoung was becoming shy for some reason, but Youngjae just smiled, all his thoughts concentrated on the word “friend” flashing in the screen.

Only later, when they both were in their rooms getting ready to sleep and Youngjae was so close to finally drifting to his dreamland, he remembered one thing. It wasn’t important at all, and maybe it had an explanation of some kinds, but now that he thought about it, it was weird.

He never told Jinyoung that his favorite color is red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is a terrible thing. As well as editing the chapter while listening to depressing Jaebum's song recommendations.


	4. 2:22 AM

Sometimes Youngjae yearned silence himself.

At times he felt incredibly heavy and bothered, all the small and seemingly insignificant events piling up into one huge stone crushing him with an incredible force, waking someone else up inside him – someone drastically different from the Choi Youngjae everyone saw, the one who would always smile and laugh with sunshine and rainbows pouring out of his eyes. Another Youngjae, who wanted only rest and silence, to lie down somewhere far away from people until he’d feel ready to come back.

It wasn’t like he was faking his personality, not at all – he was always smiling and laughing genuinely, sunshine and rainbows in his eyes were as real as they could be. But everyone needed a break from time to time and Youngjae wasn’t an exception.

So he took that break, winding up in an empty beach in the middle of the night, lying down on the cold sand with his eyes closed, listening to the rare waves silently crashing into the shore.

It was his special place, a secret space only he knew - with no people around to bother him, only sand and sea surrounding the twenty-one year old, who was trying to get rid of everything that was bothering him, and that was a whole lot.

Apparently, he had failed one of his exams, the same one he actually expected to fail – management theories always were so distant to him he didn’t have it in himself to learn them. In Youngjae’s opinion, people weren’t theories, they were complex beings whose behavior couldn’t be predicted by some books and he wasn’t going to stick labels on anyone.

His parents didn’t know about this whole mess yet and Youngjae wasn’t sure if he was even going to tell them. He wasn’t ready to deal with the disappointment in their eyes. Wordlessly putting aside some of his scholarship money to pay for the course he will need to repeat next semester seemed a lot better idea.

Youngjae knew that nobody ever visited this part of the beach, so it was only natural that he felt his heart racing hearing some weird sounds right next to him, someone’s dark silhouette standing meters away from him. Youngjae jumped on his feet, ready to run if needed, but soon he recognized the person and sighed in relief.

Jinyoung’s face was dimly lighted by the moonlight of the clear summer sky and Youngjae was caught off guard for a second or two – instead of the usual exterior, exuding calmness and restraint, the guy seemed angry, furious even, traces of tears that had yet to dry sparkling on his cheeks. He was skipping rocks, throwing them into the water with rage and failing every time, but Youngjae wasn’t stupid – there was no way Jinyoung would’ve cried because of it.

The younger shook the remaining sand off his clothes before coming closer to him, trying to make as much noise as possible to indicate that he was here so Jinyoung wouldn’t get scared, but the latter didn’t seem like he heard a thing – his only focus were the surface of the water and rocks in his fist.

“I don’t think you’re doing it right,” Jinyoung’s hand, ready to toss yet another rock into the sea froze halfway upon hearing a familiar voice nearing him.

Youngjae didn’t ask what was bothering him, didn’t ask a lot of complicated questions that were burning his tongue. The guest didn’t seem like he enjoyed questions and his still wet eyes were glimmering in the darkness of the night with gratefulness for not bringing it up, when the younger took the rock from his hand.

Youngjae thought that it was almost weird how Jinyoung always unintentionally appeared in the places he was. The receptionist had a hard time remembering when was the last time he saw the guest passing by in the corridors or anywhere else actually, but they both bumped into each other whenever they needed to take a breather. Their moods always seemed to be on the same side of the scale too – somewhat different, but still similar. It was strange, Youngjae had to admit that, but it wasn’t unpleasant and he always believed that soulmates and coincidences are a thing anyway.

“There’s a saying that kids in Mokpo learn this before they learn to speak,” he finally said, sending the rock to the surface of the sea with a sharp and clean movement, making it skip three times. “I guess, there’s some truth to that.”

Jinyoung looked at him for a while and picked another rock from the sand, stubbornly ready to follow the younger’s movements, but it was immediately swallowed by the dark water. Youngjae softly smiled at this.

“Sea water isn’t really suitable to do this, but seems we’re lucky tonight, there’s barely any wind for waves to form,” he said, sounding like an expert. He took a step closer to the elder, now breathing almost right into Jinyoung’s neck. The latter turned around a bit confused by this unexpected proximity, but Youngjae continued, “Let me show you.”

Jinyoung smelled of coffee and old books and the younger sincerely liked it, for a split second even thinking that he wouldn’t mind just standing like that for the rest of the night. However, Jinyoung soon woke him up from his thoughts by fidgeting a bit. Youngjae awkwardly smiled, not knowing what has gotten into him, and took Jinyoung’s palm into his own, saying, “Relax your arm for a second.”

And the latter did, for some unknown reason fully trusting whatever plan the younger had in his mind.

“Face the water sideways with your feet shoulder-width apart,” Youngjae almost whispered into his ear. When they finally were in the right position to begin with, the younger softly, but with a certain confidence bent Jinyoung’s wrist all the way back with his own hand and swiftly snapped it forward to flick the rock away.

Only two skips, but from the smile finally flashing on Jinyoung’s face you could’ve easily thought it was at least thirty-two.

“Now try it yourself,” Youngjae said, after two other attempts finally moving away. He felt slightly drunk for some reason, but it wasn’t that kind of drunk where you’d get into fights or do dumb things. Calm, fuzzy kind of drunk, almost like being in love, except that he wasn’t.

Jinyoung looked confused for a second, a disbelief in his own skills vivid in his eyes, but the younger told him not to worry about it. And he was absolutely right – four skips, even better that what Youngjae had showed him moments earlier.

“You’re a fast learner,” he remarked, feeling somehow proud of his teaching skills, gloomy mood long forgotten. Jinyoung had this ability, he could tell, to make him forget all of his worries, but the sadness in his own eyes didn’t leave no matter how wide Jinyoung’s smile was and Youngjae decided to take the risk.

“I saw you crying earlier, is everything okay?” he asked, and a shadow of surprise glimmered in Jinyoung’s eyes. He definitely didn’t expect to be watched and Youngjae himself suddenly started to feel uncomfortable, as if he was a stalker.

However, Jinyoung didn’t look annoyed or angered by the question. He made a weird gesture, neither a shrug not a headshake and Youngjae didn’t know how to understand it until the elder took out his phone, typing something.

“ _Have you ever been to a therapist, Youngjae?_ ”

The latter thought for a while, trying to understand what kind of hidden meaning lies behind this question. “You mean like for some kind of counselling or something like that?”

A nod.

“Yeah, I was. A girl in our school killed herself when we were in 11th grade and everyone in our school had to go through some mandatory counselling. Mokpo is a small city, everyone knows each other in the neighborhood, so we were all pretty shocked. I knew her ever since elementary school, you could even call her my first real crush.”

Youngjae didn’t know why he was spilling all this to Jinyoung, it would’ve been stupid to expect that the latter was interested in some stupid dramas of a small city, but surprisingly, the elder’s eyes were full of warmth and compassion.

“Anyway, that’s not really my favorite topic, we all did our part of overthinking a few years ago,” Youngjae weakly smiled in continuation. “Why are you asking, though?”

“ _What did they tell you back then?_ ”

He shrugged, admitting, “I don’t know, I never really listened. I just used to go there for those mandatory forty minutes to get a signature from the doctor to bring to my homeroom teacher. I used to space out whenever they started talking, but probably it was the ordinary stuff – that everything passes and we shouldn’t cling to sadness. Dead will always be dead, but we have to keep on living, all that jazz.”

Jinyoung’s eyes got even sadder if that was possible, but there was also something else, something weird that reminded Youngjae of disgust and contempt, but before he managed to ask what was it was all about, he saw another bunch of words in front of him, “ _Do you think that’s fair?_ ”

“What is?”

“ _Them saying stuff like this. Whenever something happens, they’re all go ‘it will pass’, ‘don’t get caught up in that’, ‘your world is crashing on your shoulders, but here’s a candy, now go out there and smile, because that’s how we’re all supposed to be’. Doesn’t it feel like we’re not allowed to be sad, to feel pain, because apparently ‘time will heal everything’ anyway?_ ”

When Jinyoung was typing this, the younger could physically feel the anger almost radiating from those impatient taps on the phone screen, despair trying to escape the elder’s body in a form of these words.

“Have you… Have you ever been there?” Youngjae asked, stuttering a bit. He still was exploring the boundaries, trying to figure out what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. Seemed like this question got a pass.

“ _Of course. They decided that I need therapy to deal with the fact that I won’t ever be able to make any sort of human sounds again_ ,” Youngjae was sure that if Jinyoung could laugh, he would’ve let out a cold mocking laughter at that moment. “ _My therapist told me to be happy about that, can you imagine? He said that I should be happy that I survived and that speaking isn’t everything. Do you think that’s fair? I couldn’t even breathe without various tubes stuck into my throat, and yet I was supposed to sit there on that ridiculous leather couch and learn to be happy._ ”

Youngjae wasn’t expecting this outburst. He looked at Jinyoung, who was barely able to suppress his tears of anger, some of them still escaping his eyes. He was shaking as if it was a cold autumn night and Youngjae felt so, so sorry.

“You’re right,” he said, feeling a prick of tears at the back of his throat. “That is not fair. How did you get injured?”

“ _I was going to my audition for the musical acting department. I was late because my bus got into a traffic jam, so I had to run. It was raining quite heavily that day and I couldn’t see much, but I didn’t hear any cars near me and decided to run to the other side of the street. Jokes on me, there was a car. The driver was drunk and didn’t manage to stop on time._ ”

“Is this how you lost your voice?”

“ _No, not really. I was taken to the hospital because of my broken ribs and suddenly my lungs collapsed during the surgery. They had to do a tracheotomy and the surgeon’s assistant… He was young, just out of med school and nervous – who wouldn’t be. His hands were shaking and he made the cut a few millimeters too low, damaging both of my recurrent laryngeal nerves, leaving me completely voiceless._ ”

By the time he finished reading the message full of medical terms he didn’t know a lot about, Youngjae didn’t bother to hide his teary eyes any more, tightly grasping Jinyoung’s wrist, trying to comfort him as much as possible, but the latter’s facial expression was calm again, as if he was so used to the story that he told it mechanically, without any difficulties to live through the events again.

“What happened later? That assistant had to have his medical license taken away for such a mistake, he couldn’t possibly—“ Youngjae’s words were becoming one incoherent mess, but Jinyoung just forced out a smile.

“ _In the end, they did save my life, so there was nothing I could do, neither did I want to do something. The hospital offered me a compensation, but I refused. And according to my therapist, I had to keep on living smiling brightly. Because it’s completely okay to say that voice isn’t everything to a person who wanted to sing for the rest of his life. I would’ve graduated by now, today was the graduation ceremony for those who made it through the auditions the same day I got in the accident._ ”

It was that moment when Jinyoung finally started crying, soundless sobs escaping his body. But this time the tears weren’t angry, they were just sad and heartbreaking and Youngjae didn’t even feel how he took the elder into his embrace, letting the tears drop onto his shoulder.

Jinyoung didn’t cry for long, he got himself together after a mere few minutes, wiping his face with the back of his hand, trying to smile again.

“ _Sorry, I didn’t want to burden you with all this._ ”

“You’re not a burden, let it all out,” Youngjae reassured, lying down on the sand again and gesturing the elder to follow. “Whenever I feel bothered, I look at the sky. Maybe it will work for you too.”

Jinyoung flashed him a grateful smiled once again, lying on his back next to him. The latter saw that the mute guy was mouthing something, something that reminded of a song, but there was no sound and Youngjae never was good at reading lips. So instead, he decided to leave Jinyoung alone with his thoughts, closing his eyes and letting his own thoughts to wash him away.

He opened his eyes only the next morning, soundly resting in his own bed and quite puzzled over how he got back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably is the last regular update this year, since I'm taking a short break from writing and leaving for good two weeks on Wednesday and I'm not sure whether I will take my laptop with me or will I even have internet. I will definitely be back at the end of January at the latest, probably with a new fic as well, but no worries, I'll be writing them simultaneously so you'll still be able to get weekly updates of this one. (hopefully)  
> happy upcoming holidays everyone, and I hope you'll have a great time whatever you're doing! :) 
> 
> As always, comments and everything else are highly appreciated <3


	5. 3:33 PM

Youngjae knew what summer romances are.

Adventurous and a bit reckless; messy and sometimes drowned in alcohol. Dangerous and disappointing most of the times. And a few summers back, when a certain tourist disappeared from Mokpo in the end of August without saying a word and he cried his brown eyes out, Youngjae swore he won’t jump into the same water ever again.

And yet, he couldn’t find an explanation why sometimes, more often than not, he used to wind up in the terrace of their guesthouse with a sign language book on his lap. The book was old, so old, its pages were about to become dust upon a slightest touch and it earned him a stare from a librarian when she accompanied him to the bookshelves no one ever really visited, but that wasn’t important at all.

The signs were unfamiliar, complicated and at the end of the week Youngjae still didn’t know half of the alphabet, much like he didn’t know why he was ready to go such lengths for Jinyoung. He wasn’t in love, he was sure about that, it wasn’t the case where he would deny his crush if he had one – but he liked to help people and Jinyoung needed help, or so did the younger liked to think.

He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the elder and sometimes Youngjae even felt afraid that Jinyoung had moved out without any notice, but the latter’s name was still in the registry and his key was still absent, telling that the guy should be somewhere around. Maybe he was out for the entire day, returning only when Youngjae was already sleeping, maybe he was just spending his days in his room because he didn’t feel like doing anything else.

Jinyoung was a lot of _maybe_ s, but perhaps that was his charm.

When Youngjae finally spotted him leaning against a wall of the said terrace, which floor now were all covered in printed pages illustrating how sentences should be formed in Korean sign language, he immediately noticed the hint of confusion in Jinyoung’s dark gaze, as well as a weird shyness and a slight annoyance about getting caught.

“What are you doing here?” Youngjae asked flustered, trying to gather all the papers in one place instead of leaving them scattered and hide them behind his back, but it was too late – Jinyoung was already curiously reading one of them, eyes calmly tracing the material he had to learn years ago.

This time Jinyoung didn’t bother taking out his phone, grabbing the pencil the younger was using to make his notes and scribbled his syllables on the back of the same paper.

“ _I could ask you the same._ ”

Youngjae was puzzled about whether he wanted the elder to know. He could’ve said he took the sign language course as an elective in university and wanted to practice it before the semester starts or something like that, heck – he didn’t actually even _need_ to explain Jinyoung anything. Technically, they were still no one to each other, but after a few moments, Youngjae caught himself mumbling, “I just wanted to… Help you.”

“ _Help me_?” Jinyoung didn’t need to write this one for the younger to understand that he has no clue what kind of help Youngjae is talking about.

“I thought… I thought it would be easier for us to talk, if we both spoke the same language.”

For a second Jinyoung looked like he was about to laugh, then he frowned as if he was thinking about something really hard and Youngjae started feeling anxious for some reason, waiting for the reaction to this words. It sounded dramatic and even cheesy, and to be honest, they were doing a pretty good job communicating through messages during the times they bumped into each other, but suddenly Jinyoung smiled.

“ _Thank you,_ ” he mouthed.

Youngjae didn’t know how to explain the feeling that filled his chest after this. It wasn’t a relief, at least not exactly – he just didn’t want Jinyoung to be obliged to feel grateful about this.

“ _It’s not an easy thing to learn._ ” The latter scribbled on the paper a few moments later, when the silence was becoming too awkward and unbearable. The whole scene was rather amusing – with Youngjae looking like he was caught in the middle of a crime scene, and Jinyoung’s eyes exuding nothing but the usual calmness and warmth. “ _And those papers are completely useless._ ”

“Useless?” Youngjae mumbled, feeling slight hurt by this cruel conclusion, because it completely discarded all the efforts he put in this.

But Jinyoung’s response was full of lighthearted humor, making the younger feel a little bit more at ease, “ _Unless you think that we can have a great conversation spelling out the entire alphabet for each other_.”

The elder was also quick to reassure that Youngjae still did a great job, while quickly scribbling an additional note, what finally put a smile of some kind on the younger’s lips and a few minutes later the latter didn’t even notice how Jinyoung was dragging him outside to enjoy the warmth of the lazy late June sun.

Half an hour and a short visit to a convenience store later they ended up in a nearby park with ice cream cones already melting in their hands and Jinyoung’s eyes glimmering in excitement as he was typing a message that he was planning to teach the younger the basics of the sign language himself. The elder’s enthusiasm mesmerized Youngjae and it made him unconsciously smile.

However, he was terrible at languages and it didn’t take long for Jinyoung to find that out as an hour later Youngjae still couldn’t tell _thank you_ and _sorry_ apart, only splattering his melting ice cream everywhere as he tried to imitate his teacher’s gestures. Jinyoung frowned when some of it got onto his cheek, but he quickly wiped it off with a wide smile, and for Youngjae he somehow reminded of a teenager, with his hair always falling into his eyes.

“So this one is for _tomorrow_?” Youngjae tried again, making some quick signs, but he saw Jinyoung biting his lip so he wouldn’t cringe and his smile faltered. “This is for _today_ , isn’t it.”

“ _Next week, actually._ ” A response flashed in Jinyoung’s phone and he sighed.

“I’m hopeless.”

“ _You’re not. It’s more than enough that you care enough to try. Let’s try again._ ”

Youngjae felt the hidden gratefulness in Jinyoung’s message and it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, the determination to learn all these complicated expressions growing even stronger. The elder wasn’t a bad teacher, not at all, if anything he was way too patient for a failure that Youngjae thought he was, but another hour later the latter had no doubt that the day nearing its end wasn’t the only reason why Jinyoung decided to call it a day. He was tired.

“What’s now?” Youngjae asked, when all the notes with the other’s handwritten comments were folded and securely put into his pocket, ready to be revised sometime later this evening.

“ _A walk to get some fresh air and forget all these serious and complicated things?_ ” an offer flashed in Jinyoung’s phone.

Their walks, those few ones that they had together, usually mostly consisted of them walking in silence, no phones and no texting, just enjoying the silence and each other’s company and Youngjae was never against it – Jinyoung’s presence was calming, an example that sometimes words were unnecessary and the younger genuinely enjoyed the moments when he didn’t need to make effort forcing words out of his mouth.

This time definitely wasn’t supposed to be an exception, with Youngjae feeling the elder’s shoulders slightly brushing against his as they were slowly walking along the already empty seashore, feet getting stuck in the wet sand at the times. However, it seemed like Jinyoung was up for a detour from their short-lived traditions, when he took out his phone.

“ _When was the last time you felt in love?_ ”

Youngjae couldn’t deny that he felt surprised a bit taken aback by this unexpected question that came out of nowhere. Jinyoung seemed having no doubt about the fact that Youngjae _was_ in love, let it be days, months or years ago – just that he wasn’t sure _when_ exactly that was; much like a friend, who didn’t keep in touch for a long time, would ask some seemingly unimportant details.

Instead of a direct answer, Jinyoung received only a cautious, “Why?”

He shrugged, kicking a rock that unfortunately got under his feet, “ _I don’t know. It’s summer, summers are always full of sappy romances._ ”

“Not mine,” Youngjae laughed, but his laugh sounded bitter. “But to answer your question – two years ago, after graduating from high school. Everything was pink and fluffy and I thought we’ll leave Mokpo together, get married and adopt five children and three dogs, but as you can see, I’m still here.”

“ _Who were they?_ ”

Youngjae allowed memories to fill his head, “We had this guest from America, Mark. He was a few years older than me, promised me the entire world, and what else did I need – I was eighteen, dumb, and still convinced that the world is full of good people.”

“ _And it’s not?_ ”

He stubbornly shook his head, “It’s not. Mark disappeared soon after we had sex for the first time and I came to realize that it probably was the only thing he wanted from me.”

“ _I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this._ ”

Youngjae only smiled, gaze fixed on the sand they were stomping over as they didn’t stop walking even for a second, wondering what, in Jinyoung’s opinion, he _does_ deserve. But he didn’t question, instead, he returned to the initial question, “What about you?”

However, Jinyoung, as it was becoming almost a norm, didn’t give a definite answer – his reply came only in a shrug, as if he wasn’t sure if he ever was in _love_ or was it only a fling, a mixture of hormones in his brain, whispering sweet nothings about a person who wasn’t worth it.

It felt weird to get so personal with the elder, Youngjae thought, sharing the details of his life without getting anything in return, as Jinyoung’s answers always were vague and ambiguous. But he didn’t mind it, not at all – maybe it was the summer heat messing with the guard he was constantly keeping up, or maybe Jinyoung really had the qualities of a therapist of some sorts, but Youngjae enjoyed talking with him, sharing the stories he never told anyone else.

It took a while for him to realize that it was already dark outside and that they should turn around and head back, but his thoughts scattered all over the place again when he felt Jinyoung holding his hand. Well, not exactly his _hand_ – the elder’s fingers were tightly, but gently wrapped around Youngjae’s wrist, with his eyes scanning the younger to test his reaction that was only a weak and confused smile.

Youngjae didn’t feel uncomfortable, that he could tell for sure, it was just weird and unfamiliar, being so close to someone after a long time, to Jinyoung out of all people. But he didn’t hate this closure, slightly moving his wrist so Jinyoung’s fingers would fall into his palm. This definitely felt better and the elder smiled in return, but didn’t say anything. He never did.

When they finally reached the guesthouse, Youngjae felt dead tired, but a good kind of tired – not exhausted like after a long day of work, but like after a day spent doing things he liked. And if things he liked suddenly started involving holding hands with Jinyoung, he decided that it was okay, too.

“Jinyoung?” he said, when the older turned to the staircase to return to his room. Youngjae didn’t know when they will meet again, as Jinyoung had this unexplainable habit of disappearing for days and probably even holding hands didn’t mean much to him.

The latter’s eyes widened when Youngjae made a gesture, the one they revised for hours today. It was easy, effortless and usual, as if he had been speaking in signs for a while.

_Thank you._

Jinyoung smiled before disappearing again, making another sign back at the younger, one they never discussed that day and Youngjae later had to take out his laptop to search for the meaning of it, watching countless videos to find it. And when he finally stumbled upon one, Youngjae just smiled.

_Take care of yourself._

And it was hundreds, thousands of times more meaningful than _I like you_ in any language.

 

Youngjae definitely knew what summer romances are.

Adventurous and a bit reckless; messy and sometimes drowned in alcohol. Dangerous and disappointing most of the times. But this summer, he felt, he was jumping into the same water, and for some reason it didn’t feel dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you had great holidays!  
> I know I update this one like once every three years or so, but I'm trying not to force this one, writing it only when I feel like I have something to write about it, besides this past month was pretty hectic so excuse the lack of updates!  
> Anyway, this story is back with some random fluff (????) out of nowhere, before we all drown in angst that is supposed to happen, because well... It's me, haha. 
> 
> Okay, I hope you enjoyed it, and as always, comments and other feedback is always welcome!


	6. 4:44 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this should go pretty well with BTS' Spring day instead of the usual playlist, at least that's what i was listening while writing

Youngjae also knew that nothing lasts forever – and that it didn’t necessarily mean something bad.

He had to get used to the fact that he didn’t see Jinyoung on a daily basis, and not even on a weekly one, the older guy being a puzzle, like a mysterious ghost appearing and disappearing whenever he felt like doing so. And even though Youngjae knew that Jinyoung never promised him anything, them holding hands didn’t mean anything, he couldn’t help but keep taking glimpses at the staircase whenever he worked in the reception – maybe if he stared long enough, the guy would appear, cover Youngjae with his calming silence and then everything would feel alright. And then that suffocating feeling of emptiness would be gone.

Why didn’t he go searching for the elder himself, if he wanted to see him so badly? Youngjae didn’t know, he simply didn’t want to force his company on Jinyoung, as the latter seemed to value privacy and the ability to decide everything on his own. Also, he didn’t want to receive weird stares from his family members whenever he asked about the guy living in 302.

So Youngjae waited and prayed, mumbles bursting into his pillow every night, and Jinyoung finally appeared again, leaning against the wall of the reception room, a relaxed and a bit shy smile plastered on his lips, dark hair slightly getting into his eyes. The younger wanted to run an greet him, to ask where he was and what was he doing all these weeks, but he couldn’t – some guy was checking in and Youngjae had to take care of that first.

“Write your name and surname right here.” He pointed at a form without really looking at it, busy stealing glances at Jinyoung, as the latter was studying the paintings hanged on the wall.

“That field asks for my email, though.” The newcomer noted, frowning in confusion and impatience. The straps of his heavy backpack were cutting into his skin and an absent-minded receptionist certainly was one of the things he didn’t have time for right now.

However, Youngjae’s answer was just as absent-minded as before. He was visibly blushing, because Jinyoung turned around at a wrong time and caught him staring. “Then write your email and I’ll take care of everything else. What’s your name again?”

“Im Jaebum.” The guy replied, placing his last signature on the printed page. Youngjae only nodded, rapidly scribbling something on a sticky note, probably a reminder for himself to finish up the paperwork when his heart wasn’t making somersaults in his chest.

“Room 301, third floor.” The receptionist finally said, handing Jaebum his room card, trying to ignore the obvious fact that he gave that room to the guest so he would have an excuse to visit the third floor more often.

When the guest finally walked away, dragging his suitcase, Youngjae sighed in relief, happy to get rid of him. He lifted his head up too see what Jinyoung was doing, to learn that perhaps the elder got sick of waiting and went somewhere, but he was still standing there, done inspecting the artwork, now looking directly at him with his dark eyes.

“Are you waiting for me?” He slowly asked, voice shaky as if he was nervous. And he indeed was, a little bit – the mute guy’s presence always had that _something_ , something that made his heart beat rapidly, but it didn’t feel like something bad, especially when Jinyoung let out a smile again and nodded. “Why?”

The elder was obviously teasing him, quickly gesturing something in sign language and Youngjae, even though religiously practicing his skills every evening, had no idea what Jinyoung meant with that mischievous smile of his.

“ _What about ditching work for a while?_ ” the latter kept smiling as he was typing the message in his phone yet again, the familiar font with black syllables flashing in the screen that was reached out for Youngjae to see.

He thought for a while. His parents would definitely behead him if they knew, but none of them were in town since they had some relatives in Seoul to visit and his sister was gone somewhere too. The day wasn’t booming with business as there weren’t a lot of reservations in the middle of the week, besides they had a self check-in for instances when nobody was in the reception. The weather was good too, as much as Youngjae saw through the windows – the sun was shining brightly through them, the warm rays of it playing with his skin, but it wasn’t unbearably hot. And after a few minutes of contemplation, the younger finally nodded.

“Where have you been all this time?” he finally found the courage to ask, when they were walking down some street, feeling the hot early July sun shining into their backs. This time they weren’t holding hands, but it still was enough for Youngjae, feeling Jinyoung’s shoulders slightly brushing against his.

“ _Just places, here and there. Nowhere important._ ” The elder’s answer was as confusing as always, and sometimes he wished that Jinyoung would stop speaking in riddles, but he let it slide yet again, because the other was _here_ and that’s what mattered the most. “ _What about you?_ ”

Youngjae wasn’t sure how to answer this. His life was neither puzzling nor interesting, everything was just like the evening they saw each other for the last time – and so he told. Working at the reception, helping his parents whenever they asked. Some video games during long and boring evenings, a few books that he had read. A few new words in sign language that he learned.

“ _What do you want to do today?_ ” Jinyoung asked and Youngjae thought his heart will explode with pride, as the elder said it in signs and he understood everything without asking to write it down or show it again a dozen times. Though he had to shrug in response, because he had no idea.

“You dragged me out of the reception, so you can decide.” Youngjae laughed, laugh loud and melodic, easily filling the entire street and he noticed that the sound of it made Jinyoung’s eyes sparkle with some certain softness. And he liked that.

The mute boy looked like he was thinking about something very deeply, trying to come up with a plan for that day and suddenly his eyes darted at a corner of the street, where toy vending machines were lined, all full of plush toys, tempting the two guys to try their luck.

“I didn’t know you’re into stuffed toys.” Youngjae said, following his gaze, a pang in his heart reminding that actually he knew _nothing_ , but Jinyoung didn’t hear it, completely mesmerized by the possibility of them winning something.

In the end, they turned their pockets upside down searching for coins, 5,000 won granting them twelve attempts according to the sticker on the machine, and they decided to pay 2,500 each and split the attempts into six. Jinyoung’s eyes were burning with a childish enthusiasm seeing all the prizes they could’ve taken home and the sight of it was so endearing, Youngjae internally swore not to move away from here without a plush toy in the elder’s hands.

But they had to know it was a scam, much like most of the similar lotteries, toys falling out of the claws of the machine, failing to grasp anything or dropping it so, so close to the hole where the prizes were supposed to fall from. Jinyoung tried his luck first, unsuccessfully trying to grasp the huge teddy bear he had laid his eyes on six times in a row. Youngjae was trying to do the math in his head, to come up with a strategy of some sorts, but he also failed four times, before taking a break to study the machine again, getting startled by Jinyoung, who was standing behind him and suddenly decided to rest his chin on the younger’s shoulder.

Youngjae turned his head, slightly, so he wouldn’t shoo the elder away, and his confusion was met with sparkling eyes and a warm smile, and he couldn’t resist smiling back. It felt weird, but a good kind of weird, an unfamiliar warmth twisting his insides in the most beautiful way ever.

Jinyoung raised his arms, one tightly wrapping around Youngjae’s waist, another one pointing at something, tracing something on the glass of the vending machine. The younger found it hard to concentrate being so flustered, but it didn’t take long for him to understand – if they make the claws push the toy a bit more to the left now, they could grasp it firmly with the last attempt, making the distance between the teddy bear and the exit smaller.

So he proceeded with the plan, Jinyoung’s arm still around him, easily pushing the toy with his fifth attempt. However, the last attempt got interrupted with an unexpected obstacle – before the pair could even manage to exchange mischievous glances, absolutely sure that the toy soon will be theirs, the machine got stuck, claws not wanting to release the teddy bear at all and Jinyoung sighed.

He was visibly disappointed and Youngjae didn’t want to leave the place like this, the toy being his target of the day, if only it made Jinyoung happy. He remembered his school days, when all he did with his friends was hanging out around these machines, and the things they’ve done to win the prizes.

“Move to the side a bit.” he finally said, adorable determination burning in his eyes and Jinyoung’s warmth after the latter released him from his embrace still lingering on his back. The elder was a bit confused, but still trusting, moving away as Youngjae was looking around, trying to make sure nobody else is watching, before hitting the side of the machine with his shoulder. “We used to do this when we were kids. If you hit it hard enough, you can get the toy out most of the times.”

Sadly, as the time passed, his shoulders were only starting to hurt and soon Jinyoung tried hitting it himself, but it was useless – they both were too weak for this particular machine full of metal. The only thing the pair got was the owner of the place finally coming to check what’s with the noise, spotting the two guys taking turns to run into the stuck vending machine yet again.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” The yell reached Youngjae’s ears as he was rubbing his hurting shoulder, pretty sure he’ll have bruises tomorrow. “Stop ruining my property!”

The man was coming closer way too quickly, and after giving the last experimental hit, Youngjae turned to Jinyoung, not planning on getting caught, “Run!”

And they did, fast and driven by adrenaline from the owner rushing after them. They were almost flying down the street, Youngjae failing to remember when Jinyoung managed to grasp his hand, though he didn’t really care – the yelling man was left behind, but they didn’t stop, holding hands, the soundless laugh that was escaping Jinyoung’s lips making Youngjae crack up too.

They reached the beach, conveniently located not that far from the neighborhood they were in, finally stopping after collapsing on the sand, still laughing. Youngjae felt pain in his side because of the long run, but he couldn’t care less – Jinyoung was lying next to him, hair and clothes full of sand already, looking him right in the eyes and laughing, sincere laughter making his eye corners wrinkle into adorable creases.

They lied still for a while, trying to catch their breath, receiving a few judging stares from people, because it was pretty late to be rolling in the sand like two elementary school kids, but it didn’t matter at the moment. All this time they didn’t let go of each other and Youngjae caught himself wishing that they wouldn’t need to return to the guesthouse, wouldn’t need to separate again.

Suddenly Jinyoung stood up, smile not faltering even for a moment, and wordlessly started walking towards the sea. Youngjae sat up to see what the elder was doing – and it was nonchalantly stepping into the water. It felt weird, the atmosphere changing into somewhat heavy one in seconds and he felt a strange urge to follow, to make sure the other guy is going to be okay there, standing in the water up until his waist, his clothes getting drenched wet.

And he followed, without even thinking, without any second thoughts, feeling his shoes getting wet, then his pants, before he finally stood by Jinyoung’s side. The latter was looking at the horizon, the sun was slowly starting to set. His eyes were sad for some reason, but he smiled again upon feeling the younger’s presence next to himself.

“ _Do you trust me?_ ” Jinyoung mouthed and Youngjae had no idea what to answer yet again.

Did he trust a person he didn’t even know that well, who used to come and go as he liked? Did he trust a person who made his heart flutter every time their eyes met? He didn’t know and couldn’t tell that instant, but nodded his head anyway, waiting to what was going to happen next.

And what happened was Jinyoung disappearing under the water, dragging the younger with him. Their heavy clothes, were dragging them down, but Youngjae didn’t feel afraid, the blurry and dark green view he saw when he opened his eyes under the water was making everything seem magical and ethereal.

He saw Jinyoung, not letting go of his hand, smiling and trying to hold in his laughter. And then he got even closer and placed a quick peck on Youngjae’s lips, what made him completely breathless in surprise. He had to get back to the surface to catch a breath, standing up pretty easily as they didn’t go nowhere far from the seashore, Jinyoung following him moments after.

Youngjae felt his knees going week, because heck, _Jinyoung just kissed him_ , and he felt drunk on this feeling, the good kind of drunk – the fuzzy and warm one, as if he was in love. And that second he probably was, he was so in love it hurt to see the elder, now shy and embarrassed, waiting for any kind of reaction.

And Youngjae was quick, rushing before the unexplainable courage left him, pressing his lips against Jinyoung’s again. His lips tasted like water and like nothing the younger knew before, but soon he started to feel a tinge of salt on their lips.

Jinyoung was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it is i, the one who updates every 53 years when a full moon is shining and unicorns are singing. (don't mind me, it's 5 am here)  
> i'm terribly sorry for the lack of updates on this one, and you all probably hate me, but i'm trying lmao. i can't promise i'll update more often, but i hope this chapter will somehow mend your hearts, i mean there's fluff. sort of. 
> 
> as always, comments are very welcomed.


	7. 5:55 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a song to go with this - Taeyeon's Fine, i don't even remember when i last listened to the initial playlist while writing this.

Needless to say, they didn’t go home that night.

Wandering around the empty beach and holding hands while the warm midsummer night’s breeze was making a mess of their hair seemed like a much better idea, even if Youngjae knew that he will get roasted not only for skipping half of his work day in the reception, but also for not coming home for the night as well. But that moment he didn’t care, he and Jinyoung were trying to compare whose foot left a bigger mark in the sand and nothing else mattered.

Youngjae didn’t try to force the reason behind Jinyoung’s tears out of the elder’s lips. Even though the stream of sudden tears appeared out of the blue and disappeared with the same suddenness, Jinyoung was trying to smile as if trying to say that those are from happiness, so the younger felt calmer, even though he still felt the salt on his lips, the foreign feeling seeming weird and somehow saddening, making him feel nothing but an urge to kiss every tear of Jinyoung’s away.

When they finally settled down on a cold sand and Jinyoung was hugging Youngjae from behind as if to protect him from the wind, resting his chin on the younger’s shoulder, the latter started to think.

It was mid-July and Jinyoung’s stay in the guesthouse and Mokpo was unavoidably coming to an end, Youngjae himself having to move back to Seoul before September started. And he didn’t know what the mute boy was planning to do after – they never talked about that during those rare moments they met, other topics seeming so much more important. They actually didn’t talk about their current situation as well, they had no definite description to what their relationship was now, but Youngjae didn’t want to push the boundaries. Everything had its own timing and he was learning how to be patient.

Unexpectedly, Jinyoung placed a peck somewhere on Youngjae’s ear, trying to grab his attention, and the younger turned around slightly blushing and thanking every god out there that it was dark, so his embarrassment wasn’t that evident. Jinyoung was slightly smiling, typing something in his phone, always considerate enough not to drown his maybe-boyfriend in sign language, the one he still hadn’t mastered completely.

“ _It’s almost six in the morning_.” The letters said, when Youngjae looked at it, eyes half-closed at the unexpected brightness of the screen, so not matching their surroundings, where sun was only just about to rise. The clock on Jinyoung’s screen showed 5:55 AM. “ _Time for us to make wishes, right? Or do you not do that anymore?_ ”

Youngjae still did that up to this day, he had to admit it, nodding in surprise that the elder remembered this ridiculous and childish habit of his, but as he watched Jinyoung closing his eyes in attempt to come up with a wish, he followed anyway.

He wasn’t sure of what he should wish for, actually – he had no idea, suddenly all the wishes about his family members being healthy and happy, him passing all his classes and finding a decent job, one that wouldn’t make him feel depressed with its monotony started to seem somewhat ridiculous and far-fetched. Youngjae knew that no one had control over these things, so he thought that tonight it was okay to wish for something else, something much more distant, covered with sand and smelling like salt.

So that night his wishes took a different route – he wished that this summer would never end, if not literally, then at least in his heart. Youngjae wanted to stay here forever, in the beach where they both felt safe and happy, where he could be Jinyoung’s support and the person that understood him the best.

When he finally opened his eyes, the wish taken away by the clock mercilessly turning to 5:56 AM, Jinyoung was already done with his, softly looking at him with eyes that were slightly glimmering in the dusk of the morning, a few early rays of the rising sun creating beautiful shadows on his face.

Youngjae knew that it was his puppy love that was talking, but he could’ve sworn that the elder was the most beautiful person on the earth that moment, slightly smiling with the most beautiful smile that was holding all the worries of the world and all the warmth of it at the same time.

A few ridiculously long kisses later, when their hair were messed up again, this time not by the wind but by their own fingers, Jinyoung said something again, the words he was mouthing making Youngjae blush yet again, his cheeks getting tinted deep pink for some reason.

“ _What did you wish for?_ ”

“That the summer would never end.” Youngjae responded, trying to sneak his way out of the question without having to get into complicated explanations that made him feel like a lovestruck fool. However, it seemed like Jinyoung understood what he meant, dragging him closer into his embrace as they were lying on the sand again trying to catch their breaths. “What about you?”

Youngjae had no idea how Jinyoung’s actual voice sounded like, but that moment he was sure that it would’ve sounded somehow sad and bitter, as the elder’s message typed into Youngjae’s phone this time said, “ _I wish not to disappear_.”

There was something about that statement, something that stopped Youngjae from asking more. Jinyoung’s answers had this quality and sometimes it was even irritating – they never said anything, but at the same time they seemed elaborate enough not to ask any additional information. Maybe it was stupid and dangerous, Youngjae didn’t know and couldn’t find out that moment, but he simply learned to trust Jinyoung no matter what the latter did.

Maybe it was reckless and plainly dumb to be ready to put his life on the line if needed for someone he didn’t even know that well aside from some short conversations and a bit longer kisses. But maybe, he thought, that was _exactly_ what love is, at least that second, six thirty in the morning in Mokpo, sneakers he was wearing full of sand and a palm full of broken seashells.

“ _What about other hours, though?_ ” Jinyoung asked out of the blue, when they were walking along the seashore watching a few people passing by them jogging.

“What other hours?” Youngjae said quite confused, sleepiness finally starting to creep in his mind.

Jinyoung soundlessly chuckled, eye corners wrinkling in those adorable little creases, teasing the younger about his cluelessness. “ _I’m talking about the hours that don’t have repeating numbers. 6:06, 7:07 and stuff like that. Is it still okay to wish for something during those hours or it’s only when the numbers are matched entirely?_ ”

Youngjae had to think for a while, since he never really thought about this ever before, but when he opened his mouth his response was somewhat confident. “It’s probably okay, but I don’t do that. I don’t know why though, but it has this strange feeling of incompleteness. It feels like because of that one missing number your wish won’t come true or will backfire with a complete opposite of what was wished for. It sounds like a nonsense, I know.”

Jinyoung only nodded, thinking about something for quite a long while. For a second Youngjae thought that he will start making fun of these childish and baseless philosophies, but his eyes were darkening in the same way the younger grew accustomed to – he was thinking about something very important to him. It took another few minutes before Jinyoung took his phone out again, typing something and deleting it countless times as if he wasn’t sure how to put in words everything he wanted to say.

“ _So I shouldn’t wish for us to stay together on 7:07? So that it wouldn’t backfire?_ ” Was his final version that he showed to Youngjae, making the latter feel like he suddenly became very light, so, so light, it seemed like he will fly away this instant.  

“You shouldn’t.” He softly replied, stopping to look at the horizon, where the bright sun was starting to shine with its full force again, promising another tiringly hot day yet again. Jinyoung rested his chin on the younger’s shoulder again, following his gaze, and it felt weird. Youngjae found it strange how he couldn’t feel Jinyoung’s heartbeat, just a fluttering sound that probably was his own heart, pounding like crazy – but it could have a simple explanation of it being swallowed by the sound of waves crashing into the seashore. “Even if you don’t wish for that at all… We will be fine.”

They _had_ to be fine, Youngjae was sure about that – they were supposed to leave Mokpo together, adopt five kids and three dogs (only if Jinyoung wanted, of course) and live happily ever after, looking at everything through rose-colored glasses.

His eyes were getting heavy due to a very long day and even longer night, but he knew that there was no other way around it, just a happy ending.

 

Im Jaebum was the one to break him the news in the morning, when Youngjae was standing in the reception at 10 AM with only a few minutes of sleep, brown eyes barely opening from sleepiness and body feeling extremely heavy from exhaustion. He had just spent his last money from the previous month’s salary to bribe his sister into not telling their parents about his little journey, because luckily they were still in Seoul, when Jaebum came down the stairs.

“Maybe you know whether the guy whose room is next to yours is still there?” Youngjae couldn’t help but ask the guest, who was ready to go somewhere, judging from a map he was holding in one hand, another one hopelessly searching for coins in his back pocket to buy a bottle of water from the vending machine the guesthouse had.

“What guy?” Jaebum asked with a yawn so wide, it looked like he will rip his jaw apart, and giving up on his search, realizing that 400 won in his palm won’t get him anything, not even a pack of chewing gum.

“The guy in 302.” Youngjae impatiently explained, mentally rolling his eyes at the guest, because he had no idea how it was possible not to know a person whom you’ve been living in the same floor with for a while. Of course, it was a little chance that they _knew_ each other, let alone talked, but Jaebum _had_ to see him at least once, so the question seemed a bit weird.

Jaebum frowned a bit, trying his best to remember what the receptionist was talking about, but it was obvious that he was failing. At first he tried to blame the soju he drank last night for this hole in his memory, but then he decided that he couldn’t be drunk his entire stay and what he said later shocked Youngjae to the point he felt he couldn’t move.

“I honestly can’t remember anyone living in the third floor, let alone in the room besides me. Are you sure you’re not mixing something up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it didn't even take a month to write this, do you feel the progress. jk you all probably should hate me for not updating regularly while updating everything else.  
> we're nearing the end of the story, so brace yourselves and as always, comments, complaints and everything are always welcomed


	8. Broken clocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A song to listen to while reading](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSW6tTa5Z0g)

There was no other scenario – Jaebum _had_ to be lying.

Youngjae felt his entire body shaking, his insides freezing despite it being yet another incredibly hot day in Mokpo, as if he was about to have a panic attack. _What does Jaebum even mean that there was no one living in the third floor? Sure, it had to be a joke of some sorts, maybe the guest was blind or something, or maybe Jinyoung was so quiet that they had never met each other – of course, there was an explanation for this._

But Youngjae didn’t want to wait for someone to come up with one, thoughts rapidly swirling in his head, storming out of his workplace and sprinting up those three rows of stairs like he was competing for a gold medal.

He hurriedly ran through empty corridors, perhaps in hopes to see Jinyoung in one of them, or maybe in the terrace of the guesthouse where they learned sign language together for the first time. But the elder wasn’t there and when Youngjae finally reached the third floor his heart was pounding so heavily, he thought he was close to having a heart attack.

However, when he finally opened the door of what was supposed to be Jinyoung’s room, swiping the extra card on the lock, his heart shattered into thousands of small pieces; pieces that became impossible to put back together. The room was completely empty, there were no signs that someone had even lived here, walls weirdly white as if painted anew, and there was this weird smell, like the sanitizer hospitals always use, but Youngjae wasn’t interested in that at all.

Jinyoung couldn’t leave him like that, without saying anything – they were together less than two hours ago, that peck the elder left of his lips was still burning his skin, he definitely couldn’t have simply dreamed that. And the mute guy couldn’t leave the town at this time of the day – Youngjae knew the bus schedule way too well, constant travelling back and forth for years has paid off.

So he ran down the stairs again, stopping upon reaching the first floor. Jaebum was still there, strangely looking like he hadn’t moved all this time. Youngjae’s sister and parents also were there and he frowned, not quite sure why they all appeared so suddenly. _Weren’t his parents supposed to be in Seoul anyway?_

“Where’s the guy from 302, mom?” Youngjae asked, feeling his eyes getting watery from frustration, anger and shock. If Jinyoung really did leave him, how he was better than that American guy who ran away in the same way – leaving his room completely empty without any traces of himself?

His mother’s response wasn’t something he actually wanted to hear, as she tilted her head in confusion, “Nobody ever lived there. We were keeping that room empty all this time. Where are you going, dear?” She frowned in concern seeing how Youngjae turned towards the door.

“To search for him, where else.” The latter mumbled feverishly.

“Don’t.” It was Jaebum this time, voice soft and filled with a concern as well and Youngjae didn’t understand why he was acting like that. They were strangers, they talked like twice during all this time, but the guy’s voice was warm and trying to calm him down as if they were long lost friends. “The person you’re searching for… He’s not here.”

“What do you know.” Only this managed to escape Youngjae’s lips before he ran outside, so desperate that he even forgot to put on his shoes, his slippers so close from falling of his feet whenever he took a step.

It was raining, the weather matching his mood, a usual summer thunderstorm that drenched his clothes in a mere moment. It was hard to see the street, or, in fact, anything that was farther than a meter or two from Youngjae, who was trying to fight the streaks of water, ready to run to the end of the world to find the guy whom he grew to love over these months.

People were looking at him like he was crazy when he finally reached his destination – a bus station, where Youngjae thought Jinyoung would be if he tried to leave Mokpo, but he wasn’t there. There were only a few old women, as per usual, travelling from one smaller town to another with bags full of things they bought, but no one else, aside a few bus drivers and a ticket office worker – no one Youngjae would be searching for. And then an idea popped into his head, making him turn around yet again and run through the maze of the streets he grew up in.

By the time he was already barefoot, thinking that getting rid of the uncomfortable slippers would help him move faster. As he ran, he tried to avoid glass or rocks under his feet so he wouldn’t hurt his legs, but honestly, even then he wouldn’t have cared – his only wish was to find Park Jinyoung, wherever he was at the moment. Youngjae didn’t notice when his tears finally started to fall down, mixing and blending with the summer rain.

It took a while before he reached the beach, since he had to stop a few times – his body wasn’t capable of running around for this long. By then, it was already a full-blown storm, with loud thunder that made Youngjae flinch and a blinding lightning that seemed to be striking somewhere very near. He knew it wasn’t safe, beaches weren’t the most appropriate place to be when the weather conditions were this terrible, but he only sighed in relief, because he was right.

Jinyoung was there, carelessly lying on the sand and looking up at the grey sky, watching how the lightning was dancing in it, not afraid in the slightest. He didn’t have any stuff around him as if he had gotten rid of his belongings before coming here. Youngjae tried to come close, but some weird inner force didn’t allow him to move at all, locking his legs as if they were stuck in the wet sand.

“Jinyoung.” He tried to call out, but his voice was swallowed by the waves, angrily crashing into the shore and a thunder echoing through the entire beach. “Jinyoung!”

Despite all the obstacles, it seemed like the latter heard it, thanks to some kind of miracle, and turned his head to him, while trying to stand up. His lips broke into a smile upon seeing the younger, but it was sad, ethereally sad, as he was slowly brushing away all the sand that was stuck on his clothes and trying to fix his drenched hair so that it wouldn’t get into his eyes. Youngjae was still standing in his place dumbfounded about something in him not allowing him to move, but that wasn’t necessary anyway, as Jinyoung was making his way there himself.

It took a few moments for the older guy to reach Youngjae and when did, they just stood in front of each other, Jinyoung’s face completely blank and emotionless, except for that sad, heartbreaking smile.

“Where were you? Why did you disappear so suddenly? They said you were never even there, I was dead worried.” Youngjae cried out, suddenly all the initial shock hitting him in a form of another wave of tears and his clenched fist hitting the elder’s chest.

He knew he was acting like an overly dramatic lovestruck fool from some cheap drama, but Youngjae couldn’t help himself – the fear of losing Jinyoung seemed so much more terrifying, the idea of having to deal with a breakup yet again in the same circumstances making him lose his mind. _Jinyoung wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to disappear._

But the latter didn’t respond in any way, he didn’t bother to take out his phone like he usually did, he didn’t say anything in sign language – he simply let out a smile again, even sadder than he offered previously, and reached his hand out to stroke Youngjae’s cheek.

It felt like electricity, like the lightning would’ve struck both of them – Jinyoung’s palm was soft and smelled of sea water, and it was still the same palm Youngjae held on their way home hours ago, but there was something in that touch; something the younger guy had seen only in movies about tragic lovers, it felt like saying goodbye, the last lingering touch of a lover that is letting you go.

As soon as Youngjae thought about it, the lightning struck once again, making him scared that if they kept standing there, they could’ve gotten seriously injured, but Jinyoung… He had other plans.

He turned around and looked at the sea, dark longing gaze fixed on the surface of the water as if that was his main destination in the first place – and it probably was, judging from the way he started taking small slow steps towards it. At first Youngjae was too confused to understand what was going on, and when he finally snapped out of the horrible trance he was in, Jinyoung was already there, the blue water above his ankles.

“What are you doing?!” Youngjae screamed, trying to outvoice all the noise surrounding them, but this time it didn’t seem like the elder heard him. “It’s dangerous, come back!”

For some weird reason, it didn’t feel like his own voice – it sounded strangely different, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on this thought, the only thing he knew being that he had to run and drag Jinyoung out of the sea, by force, if he needed. And that was what he did, finally finding it in himself to move.

By that time, the water was already above Jinyoung’s waist, he was standing still and looking at the horizon much like when they kissed for the first time and Youngjae felt his knees becoming weak again, as the storm kept getting stronger and it wasn’t possible to see anything at all. However, Jinyoung started walking again.

“Stop!” Youngjae kept repeating like a broken record, feeling his throat hurting from countless loud screams, too afraid to get into the water himself, because he was certain he’d drown, but too desperate to save the mute guy from the upcoming disaster, but the latter didn’t listen. So he tried again, the shout of the other’s name being carved deep into his brain already, “Jinyoung! Jinyoung! Jinyoung—”

And only then Youngjae finally realized what was wrong with his voice – it wasn’t his voice at all. That voice belonged to Jaebum and the latter wasn’t calling Jinyoung.

All the shouts were actually screaming for Youngjae, and the latter felt someone dragging him back, away from the dark water that was already swallowing Jinyoung. He felt angry, because he wasn’t the one that needed to be saved, _there was a person drowning_ , so he tried to fight and get out of the strong arms that were holding him, _he had to reach and save Jinyoung, because he loved him,_ but.

But then someone threw him on the ground, because his fidgeting was becoming too much, and all the sand of Mokpo’s beach disappeared. Instead, Youngjae felt only a cold cement of a rooftop and Jaebum with a few unknown men around him. For some reason Jaebum looked older, he was wearing a white doctor coat and was holding a syringe in his hands.

There was no sea and no drowning Jinyoung – just a rooftop of some hospital, the one Youngjae would’ve jumped from if he took a few more steps.

And after realizing that, tears streaming down his face, he felt only a slight prick of a needle before darkness swallowed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to say that here's something you can enjoy during those last hours before got7 comes back and slays us all, but tbh, i don't think anyone would enjoy this, this got angsty pretty quick, but yet, it's still something i wanted to do for a very long time. if you're confused about the ending - no worries, the last chapter will explain everything, jaebum will make sure of it lmao. (i also should finally finish this story next week, probably)
> 
> anyway, i hope you won't kill me for doing this to youngjae and any reactions are very welcomed!!


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A song to listen to](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XaSVkb_XLt4)

“So you’re saying that… Park Jinyoung was only a hallucination?” Mark asks fidgeting in his seat, the story leaving somewhat a bitter taste in his mouth and making him uneasy. And he’s not the only one who feels like that.

The entire classroom full of med students despite it being almost 6 PM on a Friday evening are uncharacteristically silent, poorly hidden chatter and mumbles so usual whenever Jaebum starts his lectures long gone – everyone’s a bit shaken by the story. Yugyeom’s eyes are wide in surprise about this unexpected twist; Jackson’s stare for the first time this semester is directly focused on the professor, Bambam is pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would help him to understand what kind of shit went down in this story.

Jaebum, however, patiently smiles shaking his head, mind wandering somewhere out of the class he’s teaching. “Not at all. Well, at least not entirely. How many of you had a psychiatry course already?”

This course is elective, consisting of students from various grades who come here for those extra hours they’re short of, so it’s not really a surprise that there are only a few hands that rise – Mark, Jackson, a few girls from the middle row and a guy from a seat near the window.

“Have you ever heard a thing called… Projection?” Jaebum asks, taking a piece of chalk to trace the term on a blackboard. Surprisingly, it’s Yugyeom, the second year student who shouldn’t have any idea about these kind of things yet, who raises his hand this time. “Yes?”

“It’s a theory in which people defend themselves against their own unconscious impulses or qualities, both positive and negative, by denying their existence in themselves, while attributing them to others.” The student’s speech is fast and confident.

Jaebum only smiles at him, asking to remind him his name, and then responds, “Great answer, indeed – something you’d definitely find as a first result upon googling what a projection is.” A silent giggle echoes through the room, making the student flush in embarrassment. “Okay, so as Yugyeom said, it’s a theory saying that we defend ourselves by denying a quality and attributing it to others. Any examples?”

Mark raises his hand to speak, “Let’s say, an asshole whose behavior makes everyone around him snap at him, but the said asshole is convinced that _others_ are assholes so they’re behaving like that.”

“I haven’t heard that many _assholes_ in one sentence in a while, but yes, that works pretty well.” The professor lightheartedly nods. “So you get the basic concept, and now think about the story I just told you.”

The classroom gets silent once again, the task getting everyone thinking. Honestly, Jaebum doesn’t expect anyone to find the answer this easily – in the end they’re all just tired med school students who were stupid enough to pick a psychotherapy elective on Fridays, so he takes the piece of chalk again, dividing the blackboard into two big fields – one he names after Youngjae and another one after Jinyoung. “So, what do we know about Park Jinyoung?” He asks.

“Mute.”

“Car accident.”

“Wanted to act in musicals?”

“Twenty-three, the car accident happened when he was nineteen.”

Jaebum has to do his best to keep up with everything his students are telling him and write in down on the board and then he turns to the class, gesturing to the sheets he left on their desks, but didn’t allow to open until the story is finished. “Good. Now open the papers and read the actual medical history of Choi Youngjae.

It takes a while, five minutes or even more as they all are reading the papers, inexperienced minds reading every word and overthinking every meaning of it, until Jackson takes it on himself to finally break the ice, the answer burning on his tongue for a while after the realization. “It’s written here that Youngjae is mute.”

“Car accident when he was nineteen.” Mark soon joins him.

“On the way to his entrance exams at a musical theater department.” Some girl says.

Jaebum nods again, slowly writing all the said information on Youngjae’s side of the board, heart somehow incredibly heavy yet again after memories flood his head. “So, what’s the conclusion?”

Bambam finally speaks up for the first time in this class, “So Jinyoung was… Youngjae’s projection? He was nothing but Youngjae himself projected into another person as a coping mechanism?”

The professor weakly smiles confirming his answer, because it’s nothing but true. Jinyoung was everything Youngjae is, but at the same everything he will never be.

“But how did you get ahold of this case, professor Im?” A student asks.

“When I first met Choi Youngjae, I was just out of med school, not really older than some of you now.” Jaebum sighs, letting memories become vivid in his head yet again. “He was my first patient, and the last one, too. After he lost his voice in that accident, he changed completely – didn’t eat, didn’t drink, didn’t do _anything_ , and eventually his parents took him to the hospital where I worked at. Nobody wanted to take his case, so I did, I tried to talk to him, ask him questions and he was supposed to write down his answers for me, but nothing worked. And one day, we decided to change his medication, and he started to change – he still refused to talk to me in any form, but kept smiling and we all agreed that it’s some kind of a progress, that he’s getting better. However, it actually was the time when Youngjae’s mind created Jinyoung and trapped the guy in his brain. And it wasn’t until that day he ran away from his ward and almost jumped off that rooftop that we realized how terrible his state actually was.”

Mark raised his hand once again, eyes glimmering in curiosity, “But how did you know all that, about Jinyoung and such?”

“He was writing a diary, apparently, we found it among his things. That, and some other stuff.”

“What stuff, if you don’t mind me asking, professor?”

“Remember that thing of Youngjae’s, making wishes when the hours had repeating numbers?” Jaebum asks and almost the entire classroom nod their heads. “I found an entire jar of papers, all numbered according to the hours and having a wish scribbled on every one of them. Seems like Youngjae kept writing wishes every day, sometimes even every hour of it.”

Nobody asks what was written on them, respecting the patient’s privacy of some sorts, however, Jaebum can’t help but remember the feeling that left him empty that day. His graduation diploma was still smelling of fresh ink and he believed he can cure everyone, but upon reading Youngjae’s notes, he realized that he’s not a god.

One half of the papers said “ _I want to sing again, at least one more song_ ”, even though they all knew it’s not possible, the damage on Youngjae’s vocal cords was unrepairable. The other half of it, like it was precisely calculated, had simple four words, scribbled on even lazily. _“I want to die.”_

And then Jaebum’s heart broke and it’s still breaking even seven years after. Because it was his first case, and the first one he has failed.

“But professor,” another student suddenly tells, a freshman girl who looks somewhat shy, as if unsure about what she’s going to say. “It sounds pretty cheesy, but I keep thinking… If Youngjae fell in love with Jinyoung, doesn’t it mean that he finally started to accept and love himself?”

Jaebum only shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe you can explain it like this. Maybe this, or maybe Jinyoung was like a shelter to him, where he could dump all his thoughts and all his insecurities and pretend that everything’s fine. That he’s not the one hurting. We will never know.”

“We will never know?” Jackson repeats. “What happened to him?”

Sadly, Jaebum doesn’t have a definite answer to this. “I don’t know. I quit the hospital after I realized that I missed so many important signs of my patient’s mental health deteriorating in an incredible speed. I kind of understood that being a psychiatrist is not for me, so I became a teacher. Only for electives though, but it’s still somewhat related to the field I used to specialize in. I want to teach you to notice signs, so that Youngjae’s story wouldn’t happen again.”

“It’s truly amazing how human brains work though,” Jackson mumbles. “I major in sports medicine, and we have nothing like that – we have sprained ankles, broken bones and everything’s obvious and clear. There was absolutely no connection between this Choi Youngjae and Park Jinyoung, and yet…”

“Eventually,” Jaebum concludes the topic, voice somehow uneasy and mind clearly wandering somewhere far away from the lecture hall. “Everything connects. People, events, objects - everything. No matter how complicated it might be or how impossible it may seem, there’s _always_ a connection.”

He notices that the students are already fidgeting in their seats, feet itching to go and party all weekend long, because the most interesting part of this lecture is done. “Okay, I see you can’t wait to get out of here, so have a nice weekend and remember to hand in your papers next week. No Wikipedia, Yugyeom, am I clear?”

The latter mumbles something, cheeks all red again, earning some biting remarks from his friends and the mass of people start slowly taking their things and moving out of the classroom. Jaebum waits for them all to go and sighs, feeling tired after yet another full day at work.

He tries to organize his thoughts and there’s nothing else that helps him do that but cleaning, so he clears the blackboard of any letters, cleans his desk and puts his papers back into his suitcase, shutting down the computer of the classroom.

Only when he grabs his coat, knowing that there’s a nasty autumn evening outside with an upcoming storm that will definitely catch him running down the street without an umbrella, Jaebum realizes that the room isn’t empty. There’s a student still sitting at his desk, in the middle row a bit on the left, drowning in his thoughts, probably not even realizing that the lecture is over.

“Hey, you there.” Jaebum says, trying not to startle the guy. “The class is over, I need to lock the classroom, so if you don’t want to spend your entire weekend here, I suggest you to leave as well.”

“Oh, sorry.” The student finally snaps out of his thoughts, but doesn’t move anywhere, looking at his professor with deep brown eyes. “I guess I just got carried away after hearing the story.”

“Understandable. What’s your name?”

And the answer slightly shakes the earth under Jaebum’s feet. “Park Jinyoung.”

“That’s… One hell of a coincidence.” He says, suddenly forgetting all the proper talk, but the student only smiles at this.

“Indeed.” Jinyoung agrees, a grin on his lips even wider. “You know, professor, I’m minoring in psychology, but I’m actually a musical theater major. And I had a bus ticket to Mokpo tonight, but I don’t think I’ll be going.”

Jaebum doesn’t know what to say, feeling slightly _afraid_ for some reason, the annoying feeling poking his guts as Jinyoung continues to stare at him. However, after a few moments he finally stands up gathering his notes.

“Coincidences are amazing, don’t you think?” He asks before leaving.

At first, Jaebum doesn’t know how to respond, and before he snaps out of his trance, the classroom is already empty, only a bus ticket to Mokpo left on Jinyoung’s desk as if for him to take and then he comes to conclusion that there are no such things as coincidences in life.

Everything that happens is a result of calculated moves that lead people to where they are now. And something, maybe the memories of Youngjae, or some other force decides to throw _Jaebum_ to where he is –  and that’s Seoul Nambu Bus Terminal on ungodly hours of a Friday evening, where he’s waiting for a bus to Mokpo.

Because sometimes coincidences become too coincidental to be a coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's finally over, wow.  
> It's been truly a rollercoaster writing this - there were countless of times when I was so excited I could write pages, there were times (and those were a lot more often, haha) where I simply wanted to delete this, because I was 100% I won't find it in myself to finish what I started. But with some ass kicking and screaming from my friends (Mon, I know you're reading, lmao) it's here, finally done.  
> It was really tough to write it, since Jinyoung was mute and there were certain conditions so I couldn't use his pov, and it's probably one of the fics that I had to plan out the most, actually starting to write it from the ending, because I had to figure out how everything actually happened before writing it, and I hope it made at least a little bit of sense.  
> Thank you for all who read this, pressed kudos and commented, it really means a lot!!!!!!!!!! <3 
> 
> Suddenly I felt so weird, like a bit emo that this is over, but.
> 
> [3/18 EDIT] yes, it will have a sequel, one shot probably


End file.
